Radetzky March
by Radetszky
Summary: Harry Potter went missing over the summer, leaving the Wizarding World behind. In his place appears Avery Radetzky, outsider and new professor, and armed with a plan, he dives into trouble. AU post-OOTP, grey!HP, gen, time travel
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no money off this.

Contains: War, death, torture, general unpleasantness, grey everyone, Pyrrhic victories, nasty politics, and dark.

Summary: Harry Potter has vanished over the summer, and no one knows where he went. But when Dumbledore hires a new professor, have they found a new saviour? Or an old one renewed? AU post-OOTP, grey HP, gen, time travel, independent!HP

Author: Segsworth

A/N: A quick prologue to gauge interest. If this gets a good response, expect much more. (:

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"Mr. Radetzky, I believe?" Albus peered over his glasses at the man sitting across from him. The clocked slowly ticked towards three, while the sun splashed through a window and on to the desk and shelves of the room, warming the office. There was a brisk breeze outside, and his guest still looked a little red in the face from the chill. He looked a hardy young man, tall and slim, but he moved with an ease that marked many of Albus's rougher associates. He had a friendly face, and a posture that seemed to welcome questions. How much he trusted that impression was questionable.

Radetzky nodded at his question. "A pleasure, Headmaster." He looked completely open, something that many were unable to be in his presence anymore, Albus reflected with regret. Everyone seemed to think that he was after all their secrets, which was pure nonsense. Albus only wanted some of them. "I thought you'd hired Professor Snape? That's what I heard in the Prophet." He looked too young for the ease with which he dealt with Albus. He looked Radetzkty in the eyes, carefully delving into the surface thoughts. It was innocent stuff to do, really, but he was met with a blank wall. Radetzky didn't say a word about the attempted intrusion. Albus made a mental note of it as he moved on.

"Ms. Skeeter was quite right," he agreed jovially. "However, what she didn't know was that Hogwarts is looking for another person." That earned a raised eyebrow, and Albus smiled. No one outside of him knew about the search, and it was going to be interesting to see what reactions the new class option was going to get. The Prophet, he though with relish, was going to have a fit. Albus liked to think the pot needed to be stirred every once in a moon, and he was the perfect person to do it.

Besides, it would give people something other than Voldemort to think about.

"I would like to start a class for the more eclectic magics," he explained, steepling his fingers on the table, "and I've been informed that you are a foremost expert."

"Well, someone's a fan." Radetzky blinked owlishly. "I know my way around some of the more obscure magics, but I'm not sure I qualify as expert."

"Your resume," Albus said dryly, "says otherwise." And it did. The man had attended Vaelle's, studied several apprenticeships with some of the most fantastical creatures (Albus was sure he spotted a dragon on the list, and he could not tell _anyone_ he still wasn't sure how that was possible), and had done this before reaching 25. How the boy had accomplished this without notice escaped Albus: surely between the Ministry, the Death Eaters, and him, someone would have caught him? Albus knew the documents were genuine. They were all signed by Richard Vaelle, and there wasn't a single soul who would dare to forge his signature. Radetzky opened his mouth to argue, but stopped himself, seemingly realizing that doing so would not help him get a job. Albus watched with amusement.

"What would these classes entail?" he asked. He sounded interested in spite of himself.

"Anything you want," Albus said, and by the glint that Radetzky had in his eyes, Albus knew he was sold.


	2. Chapter 2

"Har- Avery, are you sure about this?" Luke demanded. He chased after Harry who strode down the hall, dutifully ignoring him. "This is a terrible idea. I know I know, well, nothing about you, which is all your fault by the way, feel free to rectify that mistake, but I know you don't like Dumbledore. How is this a good idea? Please, enlighten me-"

"It's a good idea," Harry summarized, "because I say it's one." He yanked open the hall's door . He turned back to look at Luke. "Understood?"

"Clearly, Jesus." Luke was silent for only a moment. "This is still a bad idea," he said sullenly.

"It's a terrible idea," Harry acknowledged. "However, it's not like I have much of a choice."

"Choice?" Luke said, indignant. "There's lots of choice! Wonderful choices for everyone! Like not going there at all, letting them drown in their own piss."

"Can't," Harry said cheerfully. "Already got the job." Luke groaned. "I never asked for your opinion in the first place," he pointed out. "I'm going, I just need to take my bags." He moved forward several steps, heading for the bunk tucked in the right corner.

"I can't believe you're leaving now!"

"I can," Avery said. "It's really damn boring here, you know that? I've spent the past several years of my life here, and I weep everyday with tears of pure boredom."

"Are you saying Vaelle's is boring?" Luke demanded, fanning himself. "I'm getting the vapours at the very thought of it! Generations of dullards cry out in outrage at your slander." Harry snorted. "But seriously, everyone knows Vaelle's is boring once you've done the first 3 years. Why didn't you bail after that?"

"Because I thought I still had something to learn," he said grimly.

"And what? You've magically learned the entire curriculum overnight?" Luke flopped on the bunk beside his, watching as Harry put on a necklace. A small little mirror hung off the end.

"Luke," Harry said wearily. "We're in the middle of Africa in shitty little bunks that are worse than what I got at Vaelle's, for an expedition I care little for. I've spent the past several years in a time loop, done apprenticeships that I've been pretty much been blackmailed into doing and I'm tired. Really, really, tired. I'm going back to England." He punctuated this by picking up a ticking globe and shoving it in his bag. "I want to finish this and move on with my life."

"You'll die in piss with them too," Luke accused. Harry turned to look at him.

"What the hell does that even mean?" Harry asked.

"I don't know, I like the sound of it."

Harry sighed. "I'm leaving," he announced, and Luke rolled over on to his front.

"Fine," he said, voice muffled. "Leave me to the dullards of Vaelle's. I shan't have a bit of tolerable company until the New Year."

"Jesus Christ, you're American and you sound more English than me," Harry said and Apparated out just in time to avoid more whining. He sighed to himself. He like Luke, he really did, but it was tiring having to deal with Luke's antics. The only reason he knew anything was because Harry knew he'd never do anything with the information. The man was too busy trying to entertain himself to plot. He landed on solid ground in an alleyway of Horizon Alley. He took a quick glance at his surroundings and determined no one had seen him. With a quick wave of his wand, he had a new face, hiding the distinctive features that Dumbledore had seen.

He strode out, heading for Diagon Alley. He needed books for his class, and while he suspected there would be little in Flourish and Blotts, he had to try. Sending parents off into Horizon Alley would earn him no friends, both from the locals and the parents themselves.

Diagon Alley was busy. Kids pinged from shop to shop, while adults took it at a sedate pace. Harry moved at a clip, slipping through the crowd. He didn't recognize anyone in the crowd, and he was thankful for that. Meeting Dumbledore had been bad enough. He walked into Flourish and Blotts', stopping in front of the main display. Harry liked to think that he kept up to date on the latest things, if only for understanding people, but the wizard smiling at him completely escaped his mind. The wizard was short and chubby, with mousy brown hair and a hatchet-like nose.

Who the hell was George Asterley, and why was he writing a book on him? Not Avery, no, but Harry Potter. He blinked, picking up a copy to thumb through. He could feel the press of people behind him, so moved away, heading for the shelves in the back. In the meantime, he began to skim. It wasn't an interesting read- Asterley didn't have a talent for writing-but it contained something that set Harry on edge. It had rumours and insinuations and enough dirty little lies on one page to fill a garbage dump, and for many people that was going to be enough to get by the lackluster writing. He swore quietly. As much as he didn't like being Harry Potter, as much as he didn't care one whit for the reputation he had, he knew this was going to effect his friends. Ron would be enraged, and Hermione would start a one-woman campaign to fix every wrong in the book, he thought glumly. The rest of the DA would be just as outraged.

He hadn't been gone long enough for them to start to hate him, and for that he was sorry.

He tossed the thick blue book into one of the stacks, hoping not to see it again. He reached the back and started going over the signs, trying to find some note of obscure magics. He ran a finger over books, mumbling the titles to himself. He got a couple stares but ignored it. By the end of the first shelf, he knew it was hopeless. Flourish and Blotts seemed to feel that some books on animagi and token mirror magic books sufficed for a 'different' magical section. He scowled at the book he held. It was silver and the front cover was like a mirror, reflecting his currently bland thin face at him. Right Back At You by Florence Mirron cheerily proclaimed its contents as curses and hexes, and Harry knew it was one big book of wrong. He tossed it back on the shelf, disgusted. Anyone with even a passing knowledge of the subject knew you couldn't curse or hex with mirrors. It was too risky to have it come, well, back at you, so Harry supposed one part of the title was right.

He headed for the cashier, desperate. The line was blessedly short. None of the letters had gone out yet, so there was no rush of students. The cashier was young, her pink hair in a pony tail. She wore a couple pieces of jewellery, and Harry knew she was muggle-born or a half blood by their look. She was either very brave, very stupid, or both, considering the political climate. "Do you have any books on more obscure magics?" he asked. She looked up at him, her brow furrowing in thought.

"I think so, but it's not very big," she admitted.

"Other than the books on mirror magic and animagi," he added. She shook her head. Her name tag glinted in the light, reading Claire. She looked young enough to be in one of his classes and he made mental note of her.

"Sorry, but that's all we have." She gave an ineloquent shrug, and he frowned.

"Well, thanks anyway," he said before heading out of the store. He thought furiously, trying to find a solution. He could order in books, but that would take a long time. It always did. He could do the class textbook-less, but how would that work out if a student missed a class? They'd come to him, and he didn't want that. He could write his own textbook, but that sounded like work, and Harry had an aversion to creating work for himself. He'd do a pamphlet, he decided. He'd test them mostly on the practical side of things, because that's what really mattered, and he'd have a short handout on each section.

He bumped into someone as he ducked out. He was startled out of his thoughts. "Sorry," he said hastily, about to keep moving when he saw who he'd run into.

"It's okay," Luna said, her eyes distant and her smile dreamy. Everything ground to a halt for a moment before starting up again. He gave her a nod before he started moving, this time at a faster clip. She looked the same, he thought. She looked the same. He shouldn't be surprised, but he was. It'd been years since he'd seen her, and she should have looked different. Shit. This wasn't going to be simple. He needed to get used to this world fast, before he slipped.

H e puttered around the alley in an attempt to get used to it. Now that he was looking harder, he was seeing people he distantly recognized. The initial what the fuck reaction was fading, but he knew it'd come back when he saw Hermione or one of the Weasleys. The likelihood of meeting one of them was slim though, so he took his walk at a sedate pace, pondering what he should get.

He already had his supplies for the year. He had them in his bag. What he didn't have, in comparison to years of going to Hogwarts, was a companion. He toyed with the idea. He wanted someone stable to be around him for the year, but he wasn't sure a pet was the greatest idea. After this, he had no idea what he was going to do, and he didn't want to get a pet for a year then dump it. Besides, what would he even get?

Something friendly, his mind idly supplied and now the idea wouldn't leave him alone. He always did this to hiimself. He turned towards Magical Menagerie, frown etched on his face. Magical Menagerie was packed, more than Flourish and Blotts. Children stood in front of cages of multicoloured rats, while adults picked through medicines and food supplies. Harry walked by them all, glancing over the cages for something that caught his interest.

He saw some snakes, but dismissed them. He didn't like snakes all that much, and having one would not ingratiate him to the right people. An owl would mean replacing Hedwig, and he was uncomfortable with doing that. She'd been much too human-like to dismiss her so easily. He did a round of the shop before finding her. She sat in a little cage of her own, her coat thick and mottled.

It was a tiny kitten that was the mixed colours of soot, mud, and snow. He crouched down to her level, looking at her. She stared back at him through mismatched eyes and meowed softly. He barely heard her. Little tufts of fur decorated the tips of her ears. "Hello there," he said, and she stepped forward, nose scrunching up. She eyed him quietly.

"Hello, sir," came a male voice. "You interested in that one?"

Harry idly placed a fingertip against the cage wall, watching as the kitten placed a paw on the other side. He smiled before turning to the man behind him. "I think I am," he said. "Anything I should know about her?"

"Probably," the tall employee said with a shrug. "She's a wee bit nasty, so we keep her away from the others. Doesn't help she's not fully cat either. Got a bit of kneazle in her." Harry's interest increased. It would be nice to have someone else watching out for suspicious people. He always ended up with half the word against him, and he couldn't watch everyone.

"I'll take her," he decided. He stood up, and the employee took over. He and the cat were whisked to the front and put in line. Harry had her in a carrying case, his arms laden with cat supplies. The little beast was watching him, looking him over, sniffing. Harry pondered a name for her in the meantime. Most of the names that came to mind were too pretentious for her. He paid for her and her supplies and wandered out. He heard the kitten begin to meow, and he couldn't blame her. The streets were even more packed now. He sighed to himself before Apparating out, heading for Hogwarts. It had been several days since he'd accepted the job offer, and he'd been invited this morning to come and live at Hogwarts.

He landed in Hogsmeade and he tossed the supplies on the ground. A wave of the wand and they floating around him. Another wave and the illusion dropped. The kitten was peering out from the cage, still sniffing but now watching his necklace swing in the light. There was a handful of people wandering around and they watched him as he walked out of town, a trail of things floating after him. It was half way through his walk that he reached a proper name for the cat. "Macha," he said and the kitten looked up at him. "Hi, Macha." Macha let out a yowl. "Oh come on, it's not that bad." It yowled again and Harry glared. It turned its back to him and flopped down.

When he reached Hogwarts, the sun was high in the sky, and it was too warm to stand. Harry dragged himself on to the grounds . He staggered through the main entrance, into the Great Hall, and of course there was no one there. He prepared to begin the slog up to the Headmaster's office, but a little pop beside him made him stop. "Hello," said a house elf, and Harry pasted a smile on to his face.

"Hello," he said. "You here to help me to my rooms?" The elf nodded enthusiastically. "Okay, just take my stuff up, yeah?" With another tiny pop, everything vanished, including Macha.

"Follow Wicket, Professor," she said. "Wicket will show you your rooms, Professor." It was a long walk to the rooms. They went up flight after flight of stairs, portraits watching, the more excitable ones waving. He waved back at one or two but kept going. They walked up through the building into a tower. Harry tried to memorize the route but he knew he'd be lost for the first while. They reached a hall of portraits, knights and ladies watching them as they progressed through it. They stopped in front of a large portrait of an idyllic meadow scene. It was saccharine, and Harry hated it.

"The password is _casus belli_." He gave the elf a nod, thanked them, and then ducked away just in time to avoid the grovelling that got. He stepped through the portrait into his living room and the entire affair earned a smile. If nothing else, Hogwarts beat Vaelle's in luxury.

The apartment was divided into four rooms, each connected. The first room you stepped into was an office space. The colours were soft greens and whites, and a window brightened everything. A desk stood right in front of him with a large wooden chair behind it. Shelves framed the walls while there were a door on each side of the desk. Further investigation found the left was a bed in similar colours, leading to a small bathroom. The other was a living room, where Macha and her stuff had been placed.

Macha looked up at him and meowed when she saw him, and he got to work on setting out her things. He flicked open her cage, and she sprung out, flopping down on the couch. He sat down beside her, looking over his apartment. He wasn't sure about the colours, but the rest of it was pretty good.

He fell asleep on the couch, Macha purring at his side.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Just a quick thanks to everyone who put this story on alert, or favourited. I love you guys lots!

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It was several days later that something finally happened . It'd been a boring time of scribbling out pamphlets then submitting them for Dumbledore's inspection. He roamed the halls, carefully avoiding the notice of other teachers. He'd decided to talk to them when he finally had something to say other than ' oh shit'. He winced at the idea of interacting with Snape. He'd already slipped once, calling the man Snape in front of Dumbedore. Considering he was supposed to have never met him, it should have been Professor Snape, or even Mr. Snape.

The big thing that concerned Harry was that Snape wasn't going to like the idea of another class. The purpose of Harry's class was to teach people how to defend themselves, which Snape was going to view as his god-given job. Fuck Snape, though. If the man started anything, Harry was going to ignore it. He didn't want to spend his entire time here bickering with Snape.

Every couple days, he'd find himself in Dyurnal Alley. Vertic wasn't interesting, Horizon was pretentious and Diagon was busy, but Dyurnal was the artist haven. Every hippie in the wizarding world, every bohemian and revolutionary seemed to party there, and if nothing else, it was interesting. Nowhere else could you get discussions on goblins rights, not without someone bursting into a rant about how terrible they were. Harry just sat in a muggle style-coffee shop, listening in on people while he wrote. Today they were talking about werewolf rights. It'd been a long discussion, marked with rants about Ministry treatment, health issues, and social exclusion. Just as the most recent speaker (this one about werewolves and schooling) stepped down from their chair, they heard an explosion. Several people darted back from the door. Harry bolted to his feet, wand coming to hand and he strode forward, reaching the door just as a pair of women did.

One was tall and thick-set, while the other was average height with long black hair. The taller one gave him a resolute nod, and he could tell she had more guts than experience by the way she held her wand. Still, it was her choice. Harry slipped out the door, but what he saw left him with both eyebrows raised.

Death Eaters lined the alley further down, and Harry watched as another shop, this time a bookstore, was set blaze with a boom. A dark mark soared into the sky, and Harry snapped into action. Keeping to the wall, he sprinted down. He grabbed hold of his necklace and thought _torquere_ . He vanished from sight, the little mirror on his necklace twisting the light around him.

He couldn't hear the women behind him, and he was fine with that. It meant they'd either given up or had some clue of what they were doing. He crept closer as the Death Eaters approached, having left the roaring blaze behind. He could see where they were going next. There was a tiny little office a few shops up. It was the home of some activist groups, ones that encouraged muggle-wizard mingling. They felt it was best that wizards do this, that it strengthened the magic of the offspring . They also had a bit of a hard- on for technology.

What could he say? They'd been at the shop a couple days ago. There'd been lots of pamphlets.

He weaved in between the ranks, listening for the leaders. There were people murmuring amongst themselves, but no one presented as a leader. As they reached the office, Harry decided to take action. "_Supplanto_," he whispered and with a one movement of his wand, several Death Eaters toppled over. Harry darted out of the center just as spells started landing. Shouts and yells went up, and Harry heard a distinctive voice begin to roar.

"Find who did that!" Dolohov shouted. Harry held his breath as spells began scouring the area for him. Mirror magic was different from regular wizarding magic, but that only made it slightly harder to break, not invulnerable. One clipped his bubble, and the spell vanished for a moment before splashing against the ground. The mirror spell twisted the light around him to make him invisible, and it was no different for Death Eater's hex. A shout showed someone had noticed, and next thing he knew there was a press around him. Harry took a step forward, shifting into his animagus form. He darted between people and legs, paws lightly hitting the ground, and got out of the area before shifting back to human. He resisted the urge to laugh as spells shot down where he'd been, and murmured another spell just in time to catch the man beside Dolohov. He heard Dolohov swear as the man toppled over on to the ground.

Dolohov seemed to give up on finding Harry though, turning back to the building and snarling, "_confringo_!" The building exploded into giant flames, and he heard someone shout inside. A terrible cracking noise shrieked through the alley, followed by another yell, and Harry knew an anti-apparation ward was up.

Harry snarled. "Cataracta!" he whispered and water spiralled downwards from the rain gutters. An infinite amount of water splashed down, dousing the fire. He moved away from his spot and turned his wand on Dolohov. _Stupefy_, he thought, and Dolohov followed his companion to the ground. It distracted the Death Eaters a bit more, dragging them away from their first goal. As he moved away, he spotted the two women out of the corner of his eye. They were sniping off Death Eaters, but they weren't moving. They were staying in one place. He was torn for a moment about whether he should go over and drag them away or not. Doing so put him at great risk of getting trapped with them. What decided it for him was their discovery.

"There!" one of the Death Eaters shouted, and the slew of spells that followed was going to be too much for them. Their shields weren't amazing in the first place, being a thin blue that faded into white in places. The entire mess was ragged and spotty, and the wash of yellows, greens, and reds swamped the barrier.

"_Speculum_!" Harry said, grabbing his necklace tightly. His illusion collapsed but a mirror-like shield appeared in front of the women. It took several hits before shattering to a Killing Curse, but it gave the two time to duck out of the way. Harry didn't watch where they went, instead focusing on running out of the way. Spells followed after him, and he felt the impact of one of the spells on his left leg. It was a oily burning sensation that travelled up and down his leg. The sudden pain tripped him up, and he staggered the last few steps to behind a nearby stall. Things shattered all around him as spells missed. He didn't have time to examine his leg, so he ignored it.

One of the women, the one with black hair, was on the ground motionless several feet away. He tossed up every shield he knew before summoning her inside his little fortress. He threw out several magical landmines to stop them from approaching, but there was too many. He'd be able to hold them off for a minute or two before everything broke.

He reached into his pocket, searching his things for something that could help. He had pens, pencils, napkins, a couple magical trinkets, but nothing that could help. He scrabbled through his mind for more spells. He came up with another couple but it wasn't going to be enough. Killing curses ripped through parts of his defenses, and the mass of other spells was too much. Holes were ripped in the barriers. Explosions and puffs of dirt and stone showed that they were triggering his landmines too. All the while, his leg burned ferociously, and he could feel the blood seeping down his leg, warm and wet. It stung like someone had tossed salt in it.

The woman beside him moaned. He ignored her, shooting another volley of spells. A couple Death Eaters retreated back, but it was token at best. Another crack happened, but this time it wasn't anyone trying to Apparate. It was his last shield beginning to break. "Come on," he said, turning to the woman. "Wake up." Her eyes blinked open, but they were blurry and drowsy. "Shields are breaking, you're going to have to get moving. No more free ride." She rolled to her feet. She was blinking rapidly, trying to orient herself, but it was too little, too late. With a final boom, the shields shattered, and spells started flying over their heads. It was an unrelenting barrage: a veritable rainbow of colours streaked above them.

He crouched down against the wood of the stall, knowing that people were approaching now. It was over before the entire thing started. Good job, he congratulated himself. You've managed to get yourself killed on the seventh day. "_Avada Kedavra_," a voice snarled above him, and he braced himself for death. Hopefuilly the other woman made it out, he thought glumly.

Everything went black for a second, and he blinked as green vanished from view. He heard more shouts and he crawled out of the black. It was a long block of stone that hovered over him. He poked his head over the edge of the stall. Crowds of Aurors had fanned out across the alley and a full on shoot out was happening. Harry slunk out from the back of the stall, careful to keep an eye out for stray spells. Around near the front stood Mad-Eye Moody, and he had just set a Death Eater ablaze. Harry watched as the man lurched around for a moment, then fell to the ground. The spasms that racked his body were grotesque. Another wave of Mad-Eye's wand put him out. Harry knew that it could all be fixed at St. Mungo's, yet he was struck by the brutality of it. But what was Moody doing here anyway? Wasn't he retired?

What had happened while he was gone?

He brought his wand at the ready and began a string of curses and hexes, aware of the woman lying prone beside him. He threw shields back up, recreating his fortress, if with a little less grandeur. He tried to aim for Death Eaters he didn't recognize. He picked out Bellatrix in the fighting, recognizing her style of fighting and while there was a prick of anger , it was easily dismissed.

Aurors kept darting into his stall to heal up or take a quick break. A couple tried to help the woman, but whatever curse she'd been hit with left her completely addled. He watched Tonks hover over her for a moment before Kingsley pulled her away and back into battle. Other injured people were dragged back into the stall, and their partners joined him in the barricade. This earned more attention from the Death Eaters but his shields, buttressed by the added ones of his new friends, helped keep them away.

"_Desipio_," he snapped, the Death Eater behind Tonks started to stagger around, laughing. His eyes darted around the warzone. The Ministry was winning, but it was by a slim margin. Just about anything could turn the tides, and Harry knew he had to act before someone like Bellatrix did. He slunk out of the stall, ignoring the cries of the Aurors to come back.

He ignored the Death Eaters and Aurors around him, limping for the center. Pain spiked through his leg at every step. Tonks fought there, her and Kingsley against Bellatrix. They were desperately outclassed. "_Morior_," he barked and a wisp of black shot from his wand. He did this in time with Tonks' volley, and Bellatrix barely escaped them both. She darted back into the crush of Death Eaters, aware they had the advantage now, and Harry was fine with that. He turned and grabbed Tonks' arm. With a whispered _sectumsempra_ it split open and blood began pouring forth. He ran his hand through the wound and she yelped in pain. He pushed away from her and began to chant.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded, but she blocked a curse that came his way, and that was all that mattered.

"_Cruor effundo persulvo_, " he replied, his wand moving in jagged motions. He could feel it building up. It hung around him like a fog, oppressive and thick. His vision tinged deep red, and he hoped people were still protecting him. Kingsley tried to grab him by the arm, but his hand brushed the cocoon of magic and he jerked back, hissing. Harry felt sympathy for him. He'd done that once and it burned like crazy.

"_Adustum meus inimicus_ ," he murmured , and he felt when it finished. The pent-up magic released, washing over the other Aurors on the field. When it was all gone , he dug through his pocket, taking out a piece of paper and a pen. He began to scribble tiny looping designs on it.

"Now is not the time to draw!" Tonks yelled. "What are you doing?" She tried to reach for him again, but Harry hopped back, landing on his good leg. It was almost done. With a final pen stroke, his design was finished and he crumpled it up in his hand, drenching it in blood.

"_Cruento_," he whispered, and all hell broke loose. Puddles of blood burst into flame, setting robes on fire. Arms covered in blood were set ablaze with a dark grey fire. Screams rose up from people as entire stretches of the alley roared in a fiery mess. Every Death Eater panicked while e very Auror was untouched. The fire didn't burn, but Death Eaters staggered around in pain, howling. They desperately tried to put themselves out, but it was no use. They didn't know the counter.

"I win," he said, and the anti-Apparation wards dropped. Death Eaters cracked out of existence. Within seconds, only a handful were left, and they were the gravely injured ones. The victim of his Jester Curse was still wandering around, laughing. Several Aurors hovered around him, wary of approaching. Not a giant victory, he determined, but he labelled it good enough.

Aurors stood in shock as the grey fire smouldered around them. Tonks turned to look at him. She stared, and he grinned. "What do you think?" he asked.

"I think you're under arrest for dark magic," she snapped, and Harry groaned.

They **would** think that, wouldn't they?


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Updates are going to slow down to every three days now. (:

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"I'm confused," Harry said, "as to why I'm here." An Auror glowered at him from across the table. This was the nth time he'd asked this question , and yet again, he got no answer. "I'd like a lawyer," he added. "Preferably a good one." His leg was propped up on another chair, and it burned ice cold. The medi-wizard had expressed some concern about his leg, but the Aurors seemed to shrug it off and detain him anyways. He looked at it gloomily. It still burned, even with the ice spell on it.

"And I've told you, rights do not work like that in the wizarding world," the man snapped at him. "We're investigating what you did, and determining if Auror Tonks' assessment was correct. You do not get a lawyer until your trial."

"I could tell you what I did?" he offered. The Auror glowered at him. "What?" he demanded. "It's true! All you need to do is ask nicely." This was about the fifth time he'd offered, he reflected. "You know, I like to be helpful-"

"Shut up," the Auror said, and Harry sighed and did. It was another hour before a different Auror clomped in through the door. This time it wasn't another snarly Auror, but Mad-Eye himself.

"G'day," Harry said genially from his slumped position in the chair. "Nice to see someone new." Other Auror muttered something to himself, and Harry knew it was unflattering. "So, can I finally tell you what I did?" Mad-Eye ignored him, sitting down. "I know you guys don't have anything resembling muggle rights, but do you guys play good cop, bad cop? Or is this bad cop, worse cop?"

"You can shut up now," Moody said succinctly, and Harry went silent . "We suspect you of having used blood magic, which is illegal under Ministry Decree 522, subsection A to C. You can tell me now that you did it, or we can convict you later. Which one?"

"How about c, none of the above?" Harry snapped. "How stupid do you think I am, using illegal magic in front of Aurors? I checked the differences in law between the UK and the places I've been studying, and I know the spell is legal. It's a protection spell. If they hadn't been harming Aurors, they wouldn't have gotten hurt anyway. Besides, it doesn't cause any permanent harm, which is more than I can say about **your **fire spell, Mr. Moody." He glared up at Moody who did nothing.

"What is the name of this spell?" Snarly demanded.

"It's not really a concrete spell. It's offering magic, which has never been illegal." Never illegal, but hard to recognize, he admitted to himself. It was easily confused for many darker spells when it began to involve blood. He watched Snarly scribble it down on a piece of paper and leave. Moody watched him like a hawk, his eye swirling wildly. Harry felt a creepy unease at the stare. "So, uh..."

"If that spell is legal," Moody said, "it's because the Ministry forgot to include it." He thumped his wooden stump against the ground. "Though I can't say I disapprove." Moody's eye got that fanatic glint he always got when talking about Death Eaters. "Never seen Death Eaters run so fast at their own dark magic." Harry thought about correcting him, but it wasn't worth it. "Where'd you learn that stuff, boy?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Vaelle's. I studied offering magic for a couple years."

"Never heard of Vaelle's, but I've heard about offering magic," Moody said. "You work at Hogwarts, don't you? Seems Albus was right to hire you." Moody looked him over. "Wasn't sure you'd be useful. Don't need more charlatans peddling mirror magic."

"Yeah," he said, digesting this. "I guess." He liked mirror magic though, he thought sulkily.

"They'll probably let you go, even though they really shouldn't," Moody said. He leaned back in his chair. "Mostly because I'm going to tell them to."

Harry blinked, looking over at Moody. "And why would you do that?" he asked.

"Because you're going to volunteer to train some of our Aurors in your parlour tricks," Moody said. "If you know them, some of the Death Eaters will."

Harry thought over his options. He could refuse, but that gave him nothing but petty satisfaction. Moody was right- at least one of the Death Eaters would know a bit of offering magic. It was hard to learn, and impractical for most situations, but when it went right, it went right . He wasn't sure he wanted a bunch of Aurors running around using such delicate and dangerous magic, but he supposed it was his job to make sure they didn't misuse it. He'd have to trust Moody to choose the best Aurors.

"If I don't get stuck with your frat boys, sure," Harry said. "If I'm going to be stuck with goons, I'll be staying here, thanks."

Moody snorted. "I'll worry about that. You stay here and don't cause more trouble." He stood up and headed for the door. "Albus should be by soon."

"Small favours." Harry slumped down as Moody left, feeling tired and run down. It hadn't been a great victory. They'd lost 3 Aurors, the tall woman he'd tried to save was dead, and they'd got only 5 Death Eaters. None of them had been high ranking, from what Harry could see. Plus, he'd almost gotten killed. It'd been one giant fuck up. What could he do differently next time? Make average civilians turn back. They'd been brave but he hadn't been bright, letting those two go out there. Harry had forgotten how inexperienced the most people were. He hadn't realized they wouldn't move, and then he couldn't stand to see them die, and it'd snowballed from there.

He sulked in the room. His leg still hurt another hour later, and he couldn't help but wonder what was wrong with it. It was more than a regular burning spell, he realized. He probably needed medical attention as soon as possible, but he wasn't likely to get it. He didn't have his wand on him, but that didn't matter. He could do basic spells wandlessly, if a little clumsily. "_Episkey_," he said, swirling his index finger and pointing it at his leg, and the pain alleviated slightly. He lay back, trying to focus on something else. He gave up after another minute and whispered, "_gelidus_." A thin feeling of frostiness spread over his leg, and he relaxed a bit more.

There was a knock at the door, and Harry rolled hie eyes. What was he going to do- tell them to go away, please, this is a private room! The door swung open to reveal Dumbledore, and Harry sighed in relief. "Headmaster," he said lazily. "How nice to see you."

"Professor Radetzky, what a surprise to see you here! I take it you are merely visiting?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling. He walked to the chair across from him and sat down.

"Of course," he said. "I'm checking out any minute now. I'm just waiting for the bill." Moody stepped through the door, Harry's wand in hand. He tossed it on to the desk and it rolled over to him. Harry snatched it up, feeling comforted. A prickle of warm magic travelled up his hand. "So, I take it I'm free to go?"

Moody nodded. "You'll be in on Tuesday to meet your new recruits." Harry sighed to himself but nodded.

"_Sedo_," he murmured, doing a waving motion with his wand. His leg's pain soothed, and he took a relaxing breath. " I'll be in on Tuesday, then. Should I expect to have Ministry goons monitoring my classes?"'

Moody shrugged. "Probably. They still don't trust you, and I can't blame them. I still don't trust you either," he said bluntly, before giving Dumbledore a nod and leaving.

"Well," Harry said. "How kind of him." He turned back to Dumbledore. "...I'm sorry for this," he admitted. "I probably shouldn't have use that kind of magic, but there didn't seem to be much else to do."

Dumbledore waved the apology off. "You are not the only wizard to have resorted to offering magic," he said. "I myself still use it in defenses. There's nothing quite like it in potency." He examined Harry and his leg. "Can you stand?"

"I think so," he said. He hobbled to his feet, swaying. "I'm good, yeah-" He took a single step and toppled over. His leg roared with pain, and his eyesight went dark for a moment before coming back. He heard a thunk as his head met the tiled floor, and he yelped. His vision was still blurry and he blinked, trying to focus again. "Ow," he said, dazed, and he looked up to find Dumbledore looking down at him, concern in his face.

Dumbledore waved his wand and Harry felt himself float to his feet. "Don't move now, Avery. We'll be going to St. Mungo's to get you some help." He sounded soothing and faintly angry, Harry noticed. It was comforting. Harry'd been angry the past few hours, but no one had listened to him. They'd probably listen to Dumbledore, no matter how much of a douchebag the man was, or maybe because of it.

"Okay," he said, gulping for air. Everything burned, and he hadn't felt so miserable in years. His leg kept twitching, earning him little spikes of pain that fed through his leg. The movements faded into a blur, and Harry gave up on thinking. He just sat back, his hand on his leg, and chanted _episkey _ in his mind. It didn't do much for the leg anymore, but it did enough to make it worth it.

What felt like forever later, Harry realized he was floating in St. Mungo's. He heard Dumbledore talking to someone, but he ignored it. "_Sopor_," a voice said, and everything went black.

When he woke up, he couldn't feel his leg, and he knew something was deeply wrong. He lay in a scratchy white bed with exciting white surroundings and a brown bedside table. Light poured in from a window beside his bed, and he was left squinting at the brightness. He looked down to see his leg wrapped in white bandages, and Harry felt a looming dread at what he'd find if he unwrapped them. Someone cleared their throat, and Harry looked up to see a young mediwizard at the door to his room.

"Hi," he croaked.

"Hello," the young man said. He walked in, wand in hand. He leaned over the bed to prod Harry's leg, and he began a series of spells that Harry only distantly recognized. "You're doing better," the wizard determined. "Well, I'm your doctor," he introduced. "You're Mr. Avery Radetzy, correct?" Harry nodded drowsily. "Your leg was unfortunately hit with the Liquid Fire Curse." He sat down on the bed, looking Harry over. "I have some bad news for you, Mr. Radetzky. You didn't get the medical attention you needed in time, so your leg has been deeply wounded by the curse. You may not recover full use of it."

Harry looked up at the wizard, gaping. "_**What**_?" He looked down at his leg. "How long until we know?" he demanded.

"A month," the man said. He placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I know this is a shock to you, but I wouldn't worry too much. The care you'll be getting is top quality. If you have an legal issues, there's legal counsel that we can send to visit you." He stood up. "Would you like me to contact anyone?"

Harry was still mulling over the new information. "The lawyer, please. I have some things I want to discuss with the Aurors." He grit his teeth, stifling the anger he felt at himself and the Aurors. It shouldn't have come to this. He'd been stupid, and the Aurors stupider. Jesus Christ.

The wizard nodded understandingly and left. Harry restrained the urge to give him the middle finger. He wasn't staying in one place. He knew a spell to help. He yanked the sheets off his body, gently moving his leg over the edge. He didn't put any weight on it, but it still complained as it moved. He reached over the bed to the bedside table and picked up his wand. He looked down at his legs and did a quick horizontal movement. "_Navisum _," he said and he began to float. He stretched out, moving them over the bed. He directed everything with his wand.

He hovered over the bed and began to stand just as the door opened. He kept his left leg straight, but the weight went nowhere. "Mr. Radetzky," said the solicitor, "are you sure you should be doing that?"

"Nope," he said cheerfully. He steered himself back to the bed.

"An interesting application of magic," the woman said. She snagged a chair from the bed across him his and sat down beside him. "I've already spoken to your doctor about this case, so I just need to find out what you want to do."

"I want to sue the Aurors for causing me unnecessary harm," he announced, and the lawyer's grin became shark-like.

"Explain," she said, taking out a quill and piece of paper.

"I was hit by the curse during the fight in Dyurnal Alley. I used a spell during that time that the Aurors found suspicious, so I was detained. Unfortunately, they only gave me a passing inspection despite my concerns and their mediwizard's. A couple healing spells were applied, along with an ice spell, and I was left for several hours. After that, I didn't get a whit of medical attention until Headmaster Dumbledore came and I collapsed." He sat back, watching the solicitor's reaction. She'd been scribbling away at her pad of paper.

"If I can find this mediwizard," she said slowly, "I can guarantee a case for you. If I can't, it'll be harder to prove they knew they shouldn't leave you without medical attention. The amount of money would also depend on what happens to your leg."

Harry shrugged. "I don't care. I want to hurt them where they'll feel it. This is the way to do that. You have any recommendations for a solicitor?" She mulled it over for a moment before speaking.

"Mr. Rathbone would be best for your case. He has experience with the Aurors. I shall contact him for you, give him the details, and see if he's interested." She stood, smoothing out her robes. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Radetzky. If you need to contact me, just ask one of the nurses for Ms. Helen Jaeger." She snapped off a quick bow and left, leaving Harry to his own devices.

He sighed to himself, conjuring some paper and a pen. He paused for a moment, thinking about what he was last writing. Something about rock magic, he remembered, and began to write about the various applications of minerals to magic. It was boring stuff for a boring place.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: This edit job was done fairly quickly, so if you spot any errors, just drop me a line. Other than that, read and review! :3

* * *

It took three days to release him, and by the time they did , it was Tuesday. He'd picked up his stuff and headed for the floo centre of the hospital, which he had discovered the day before. He waved at the couple nurses he recognized, but did n't stop to talk . He was limping heavily, using a cane since h e' d found the Floating Spell impractical, as fun as it could be. He reached the floo centre and headed for the Auror Department. He'd gotten a letter several days ago directing him where to go, and he held it in his hand at the moment, following its directions.

He arrived at the Department with a tiny explosion of soot, and barely stopped himself from falling. Some things never changed. Several Aurors stood at the desk he stopped in front of, watching him with smirks on their faces. Harry resisted the urge to beat them with his cane. "Where's Mr. Moody?" he demanded, ignoring them all except for the guard.

"By the gym," the guard said. He held a newspaper in hand, the headline 'Saved Woman Speaks Out'. Harry didn't know what it was referencing, and he didn't care.

"I'll lead him there," volunteered one of the douchebags. Harry gave a stiff nod and Douche began walking. Harry limped after him, gritting his teeth at every step. This was going to be unpleasant at best. "I'm part of your class, you know," the man added casually. And things just got better. He'd been one of those smirking, but he had no idea what he'd just started. Nothing he could finish, Harry reflected. He made mental note to be hard on Liverich for the first class.

"Yeah?" he said.

"Yup," the man said. "I'm Charles Liverich." He was good-looking, in a classical way. Short blond hair framed a strong featured face with two baby blue eyes peering out from under girlishly long lashes. He looked like some sort of male pin up. "I'm thrilled to be part of your classes. It's all we've been able to talk about the past few days."

"Yeah?" he said. "Well, I'm Avery Radetzky." He didn't reach out to shake hands. "I've been looking forward to teaching the class." Not really, but there was no need to make enemies, he supposed, even if he hated them all. "Any of you know Offering magic?"

"Nope," he said cheerily, grinning wolfishly. "Some of the older Aurors do, but they're not in the classes." Made sense, he supposed. Spread out the defenses. He shrugged to himself, tired enough not to care. "So, what exactly are you going to be teaching?"

"Hold on five minutes," Harry said, "and you'll find out." There weren't many people in the corridors, and the people they came across were busy and disinterested in him and his companion, which suited Harry just fine. Liverich went silent, but it felt sulky to Harry. He rolled his eyes and kept walking, his cane thumping along beside him, creating an uneven rhythm through the hall. By the time they got to the gym, Harry was ready to throw himself off the nearest high object. Sulky silence had turned to pure arrogance, and Harry had had enough.

Moody intervened before he tried to leap off a staircase. " Radetzky. Glad to see you here." Moody gave a rictus grin. "You ready to teach?"

Harry grunted, and Moody let out a bark of laughter at him. Harry flipped him off and hobbled into the gym.

There were twenty people in there, and Harry picked out Tonks and Kingsley among them. People puttered around, talking and only a few went quiet as he entered. Harry limped his way to the front, Liverich behind him. The entire gym was empty of anything. There weren't any machines or mats—just bare tile and the faint glint of shields on the walls. Harry liked it already.

"Eyes up front," he called. He stopped in front of them. "I'm Avery Radetzky, and I'm your instructor for the foreseeable future. Some of you may recognize me; others may not. I don't really care. I ask for two things: your attention and your respect. You give me those, and I won't give you shit." He got a couple nods, along with some rolled eyes. "You're here to learn Offering magic because I'm nice and Moody's a douchebag. Be grateful." That earned some laughs and Harry carefully picked them out. They were younger Aurors, like Liverich, and Harry couldn't help but be wary of them. Would they take the rules seriously or not?

"Part of the respect I want is you to follow the rules. I have several rules I need you to follow if you want to learn. Some of you might think this is like regular wand magic. It's not. It's vicious, it's angry, and you're asking favours from it. At some point it's going to bite back, and how you've acted here will dictate if you walk away." He idly tapped his cane on the floor. "So first of all, as far as you're concerned, I know everything. Do not question me when I tell you to do something. If you do, you will be gently led by the hand to the door. Second, this is not a competition. Do not screw over enemies, since you might get them maimed or worse. Do not do things that you're not ready for, since **you** might get maimed or worse. Be smart. Third, do not ever abuse what I'm teaching you. If I find out any of you used this magic to hurt civilians, or that you tried to force the rituals, I will deal with you myself. You were chosen for a reason. Do not fuck up." Some looked more serious, but there were still a significant number who looked eager to prove themselves. He considered going on more, but it seemed pointless. He remembered what he'd been like when first learning offering magic, and he'd been just as eager to prove himself. Time had lessened his cockiness, and now he was in the position to hold hands through the basics.

"Let's get started, then," he said, leaning on his cane. "I want you to put your wands away." The blank stares he got were hilarious. "Put them away, since you won't be using them." People slowly sheathed their wands, faint murmurs rising up. "Now I want you to sit down, since my leg hurts." Harry flopped on to the ground, stretching out his left leg. People followed after him. He rolled his cane beside him, tapping it with a finger. "How many of you can do basic wandless magic?" Half the room raised their hands. "Then my advice to you- they're alike, though Offering magic is much less controlled, if you can imagine that. Hold your hands out in front of you, cupped like this." He demonstrated, cupping his hands in his lap.

"This is going to take you all about a month to get right, so don't get frustrated, okay?" There were reluctant nods through the audience. "I need you to focus the magic into a ball in your hands. It can take any colour or whatever, so long as it's a ball in your hands. That's for those of you who have experience with wandless magic experience. For the rest of you, I want you to come back on Thursday. I'm going to teach you wandless magic." People grumbled, but ten people filed out. He made a mental note to discuss this with Moody. He should have known better than to give him people that didn't know wandless magic. It said someone else was influencing the decisions, which made Harry wary. "Move in, the rest of you. Now, I want you to listen closely to what I'm going to explain..."

It was as he left the building that he met the woman from the fight. She stood outside the gym, shifting nervously. "Hi," she said. "Um, do you remember me?" She sounded mouse-like, and Harry softened.

"Yeah," he said. "You're the woman from Dyurnal. I didn't get a chance to look up on you. I guess things went well?"

She smiled weakly. "It did. I got hit with the Tabula Rasa Curse, so I'm still trying to remember things." She sounded, of all things, apologetic. Harry barely stopped himself from hugging her. "...Mary didn't make it." Mary must have been the taller one.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he responded. It was sad, but he'd suspected as much. He hadn't seen her at all during the fight, and that hadn't been a good sign. She been brave, if a little foolish, but Harry wasn't one to throw stones about that. "But I'm glad you're okay." He smiled warmly at her and she blushed. He did a double take at that but eventually put it down to nerves. He wasn't the most good looking man on the planet anyway.

"My father's part of the Ministry," she said, irrelevantly in his opinion.

"Yeah?" he asked, confused.

"He's talked to the Minister about your role in the recent fight," she added, and Harry knew exactly where this was going. He barely stopped himself from groaning in dismay. "They're talking about giving you an award," she added solemnly.

"Really?" he said, faking excitement. "That's awesome!"

The woman brightened. "R-really? Thanks!" She gave him a sickly grin. "The papers have been talking about you and what you did, so there might be some reporters outside. Nothing too bad, though, I promise." She lunged over at him, giving him a rib-creaking hug. "I just want to thank you so much. I know if Mary was still here, she would too." She pulled away, blinking. "I didn't tell you my name, did I? Oh dear," she muttered. "I'm Rhonda Cogshall." She gave him a small wave. "I'll see you around, Professor Radetzky."

"Bye," he said as she bounced off, looking on cloud nine. He thought back to the conversation, wondering what he'd just done to make her so happy. After a moment's thought, he dismissed it. Whatever he'd done, it'd worked. He headed down the stairs, his cane clomping beside him. It was long and painful going. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, a small cluster of Aurors stood there. They were looking uneasily at the door, sharing uncertain looks. Harry ignored them.

"Uh, sir, you might not want to go out there." The auror who'd said that cringed back at the foul look he got. "It's just that there are reporters out there," the man added sullenly.

Harry stopped in his tracks. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh." The Auror stood beside him, looking glum. "They want you, sir. Seems someone told them you were here. I think it was Auror Tonks. She doesn't like you."

Harry thought back to when he cut her arm open. "I bet she doesn't." And he couldn't blame her either. "Well, nothing to do but dive in. Thanks for the warning, sorry for the bitchiness." Auror guy snorted and Harry jabbed the door open with his cane. The door swung open into a giant press of reporters, and the shouts started as Harry dove in. Cameras flashed, and he could barely make out what people were saying.

"Professor Radetzky! Do you have any statement-"

"What are your thoughts on- "

"What do you have to say-"

Harry tried to speed through the crowd, but it was hopeless. The crowd was too thick. "One statement," he said. "One statement!" The crowd quieted down and the reporters murmured among themselves. "One question at a time."

"What are your thoughts on the response of the Aurors?" asked one man, to the jostling of others.

"Timely and necessary. If they hadn't gotten there when we did, I'd be dead." There was an explosion of chatter at that statement.

"What about the woman who died? If they had arrived sooner, would she still be alive?"

Harry smelled scandal and cheap shots. So this was the angle they wanted. They wanted to use Mary's death as a way to rake the government over the coals, when the reality was that the response would have had to be superhuman to have saved her. By principle, he wasn't friendly to governments, but this was just gross. A woman was dead and they wanted to play political hockey with her corpse.

"The response would have had to be superhuman to save her, and I'm going to leave it at that." He brushed by the reporters and the shouts returned. His way out was cut off again. He swore and gave up, Apparating out. He landed in the Leaky Cauldron by falling on his ass, and several people jumped away from where he lay. He crawled to his feet, ignoring the stares he was getting, and stumbled to the fireplace. He grabbed a handful of floo powder and tossed it into the fireplace. "My office, " he barked and leaped in. Within seconds he was in his rooms and back on his ass.

"Fuck," he moaned. He tossed his cane away and crawled to the couch. He dragged himself up and lay sprawled out. He reached down and murmured, "_episkey_." The pain dulled slightly, but it was still ferocious. He contemplated taking a potion for it, but that would mean getting up. "_Iucunditas_," he decided. He moved his fingers slowly and smoothly in a line, and the pain faded to a dull hum. The spell was potent, and he made note not to use again, but right now he needed it.

Sheafs of parchment were on his table, he realized dully. He grabbed them off the table, flicking through them. The letters had gone out a few days after he'd moved in, and now he had 412 students to teach. He picked out several names- Malfoy, Luna, Neville, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all there-before he tossed it back on the coffee table. Classes were going to start in two weeks, and he was finally done the pamphlets. He curled up against the couch and quickly found himself drifting off to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

"My Lord," Lucius Malfoy said, " there is news about Professor Radetzky." Harry watched Malfoy as he knelt in front of him; Harry wanted to look around, but for some strange reasons, his vision was limited. He caught glances of other Death Eaters, covered in shadows, before zeroing in on Malfoy.

Malfoy was maskless, but his head was tilted downwards, so Harry had only recognized him by his voice. "Tell me, Lucius," Harry said, his voice slithering and cold. "I am quite interested in our dear professor."

"The classes I informed you of have started. My informants tell me he is no charlatan, though his mannerisms are quite strange. Very... muggle influenced." Distaste coloured the smooth voice. "It may be impossible to recruit him, as I initially thought. His intervention in Dyurnal looks to be more than a grab for fame."

Harry could feel the thoughts going through his mind. How unfortunate that a person with talent would side with muggles. How effective would these classes be, and how much was the man with Dumbledore? Would he teach the children of his Death Eaters his talents effectively? This flew across his mind at dizzying speed, so fast he could barely muse over them. The mind beside his plowed through the questions.

"I want someone to watch him," Harry said. "We must know more about him. Having someone trained in the old arts would be an addition for us all." There were murmurs of agreement, and Harry was quite pleased that within his own followers, there was an appreciation of the old arts. There must be something redeemable in Radetzky if he believed deeply in them. They were pureblooded magic, and while it upset Harry to see them taught to mudbloods, Radetzky might still prove himself worthy of his magic. "Find his family. I want to know how pure he is. There is no use trying to recruit him if he's filth." Lucius nodded deeply. "I expect that is all, Lucius?"

"Of course, my Lord."

"Then I take my leave. Do as I have told you." Harry stood, and his Death Eaters gave one last bow. This was all kinda strange, he thought, and the mind beside his stopped. There was momentary blankness before it turned and lashed out, raking his. Harry yelled in pain, struggling as Voldemort laughed. Oh, how pleasant to see you again, the mind purred. The world faded for a moment, and Voldemort snarled. Harry could feel his mind become liquid, slipping through the tight grip he was held in. Black crept up on the world, and the last thing he heard was the voice saying, "How wonderful to see you, Harry Potter."

He woke up gasping. He surged upwards, his leg screaming in pain and his forehead burning. He hissed in pain, curling inwards. He shut his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth through it. He could faintly feel tendrils trying to reach through his shields, and he slammed them shut on the first thread that touched his mind. His mind writhed in pain.

After several minutes, the attempted intrusion broke off. He slumped against the couch, breathing slowly. Everything still hurt. Fire ran through his veins, and his muscles shrieked at him. He just sat there, hoping for it to end. Seconds passed, turning into minutes, and the pain began to fade. He relaxed, the fire turning into a dull soreness. He began to build his shields again, beyond the basics. What he found disgusted him.

His shields were in ruins. Giant chunks were missing, and Harry desperately tried to find a reason for it. Why had he ended up with Voldemort in his dream? He knew Occlumency now. There hadn't been a dream ever since he'd gone back in time. He snarled to himself, sitting up straight. He felt dizzy and he almost fell over, but he ignored it. Whatever was wrong, he needed to fix it.

He closed his eyes and looked inwards. A blurry picture of a thin purple barrier appeared, cuts in it and parts missing. Red slashes disrupted the barrier in places, and Harry picked out black slime in parts. He could easily peg that on Voldemort, but what had weakened his barrier in the first place? He examined the barrier, looking at its lines. They were smooth as they should be, curving into a dome. Harry reached out, touching the barrier, but nothing came to him. He swore but decided to leave it alone. He'd just have to keep a better eye on his shields. He shook his head, the world swaying, and stood up.

He needed to get out of here. He felt like shit, yeah, but he couldn't just stay. All his mind could think about was how trapped he was. He limped over to his cane and summoned it up from the ground. Macha looked up from where she sat, opening one eye to watch him leave. He headed for the library. He had to take stock of the resources for his subject anyway. Wouldn't hurt to see if Hogwarts had some books on time travel either, he mused.

It was a long trek down. His cane was almost comforting in its regularity, and he was glad to be getting used to it. The stairs were sluggish and mostly still, and Harry was grateful for it. He weaved through the halls, occasionally stopping to chat with the portraits. It'd been early when he'd woke, and by the time he reached the library, the sun had risen. He browsed through the sections, looking for notes of different subjects. He quickly found references to things like mirror magic, but nothing concrete presented itself. He found more than a few books dismissed it out of hand as charlatanry, and he had to wonder how Dumbledore had sold the idea of him to the Board and public. It occurred to him that his fighting in Dyurnal mattered more than he thought- he'd used strange magic to win, proving Dumbledore right. He'd been all over the papers, putting fears to rest.

The mystique surrounding the old arts was astounding. Only a handful of people practiced mirror magic with any seriousness, and they were considered fruitcakes by the rest of the Wizarding World, which had a high threshold for crazy. Offering magic was considered a pureblood art that only a few could wield with any certainty, which was really not how it'd been taught to him at Vaelle's.

He gave up on the regular section, not that he expected anything else. It made his job harder, though. How was he going to assign essays? He paused at that thought, running it back through his mind. How was he going to assign essays, a plaintive voice cried. Answer: he wasn't. Who wanted to grade them in the first place? He'd assign practical assignments only, he decided. No essays. He grinned . Hermione was going to hate his class.

He headed for the Restricted Section, glancing over the books. A couple sections looked interesting, but not enough. He hummed to himself. He'd have to hand over the more basic books in his collection. He frowned. He didn't want to, but there wasn't much choice. He flipped through one book on rock magic, trying to find any inaccuracies. There were a couple in the chapter he flipped through, but nothing major. He'd just have to warn people before hand.

He put the book back and slunk out of the library. He didn't encounter Pince, for which he was grateful. He hesitated for a moment, torn over if he should join the other professors, and he puttered around the halls as he decided. It was on the second floor that he finally met someone.

"The elusive Professor shows his face!" Madam Hooch laughed. Hawk -like yellow eyes watched his every move. "So you're Radetzky. Dumbledore kept insisting you were at Hogwarts, but I wasn't quite sure." She strode over to him, hand out. He took it, and she shook it firmly. "Rolanda Hooch. I run the Quidditch programme here."

Her handshake was better than his. "Avery Radetzky," he said in clipped tones. He should have gone back to his rooms instead of wandering. It'd been asking for something like this. "I apologize for being missing- quite busy with designing a course from scratch."

"And saving regular witches and wizards everywhere," she said with a toothy grin. "Come to breakfast with me, Avery. You've been missing way too long for my tastes. Must be getting lonely!"

"I-"

"Say yes?" She grinned and Harry gave in.

"I say yes," he said agreeably. She grabbed him by the arm, and they made their way down to the Great Hall. As pushy as she could be, she was fairly considerate of his limp. She opened the door to the Hall, revealing more professors at their tables. Two empty spots were visible, only a couple chairs apart.

"Yours is the one on the left," Hooch murmured in his ear. "Say hello to them now." Harry drew a blank as Hooch walked away, heading for her seat. Awkward silence greeted him as he followed after her. His chair was between Snape and Trelawney, and his nerves grew at that. He tamped down on them, wondering if Snape would even acknowledge him. People watched him as he reached his seat and sat down. He was silent while the others slowly started talking again. He quickly picked out his breakfast, choosing the smallest meal possible. He wanted out.

"Professor Radetzky, is it true you're teaching mirror magic? That's what Albus has been telling us," Trelawney asked, her bug-like eyes glinting in the light.

"Yes." He took a drink of his coffee. He was the only one drinking coffee, and it was a strange experience: everything here felt dated and formal. "Mirror magic is a basic part of non-wand magic." He'd ripped that right off of Professor Jin, and how she would laugh now. Once he'd no longer been afraid of her, he'd teased her mercilessly about her speeches.

"A basic part?" That was McGonagall. She looked over at him, mouth curved in distaste. He could see where this was going already. "I assume you know what you're talking about, but isn't most mirror magic a charlatan act? Merlin knows the books I've found about it...!"

Harry relaxed, familiar with this. Everyone had been cynical at Vaelle's during the first day of mirror magic, but Professor Jin had swiftly disabused everyone of that skeptical bent. "Most people who practice mirror magic are frauds," he acknowledged, "but there are some branches of mirror magic that work. Mirror shields work twice as well as any of your strongest wand ones, for example." He shrugged. "I intend to teach them real mirror magic, not the fakery rampant. I took a look at available books, and I know exactly what you've seen."

McGonagall smiled faintly. "I suppose I should put my trust in you, then. So long as you don't use that horrid book by Florence Mirron! The accidents that book's produced for young students," she tsked. She looked him over in interest. "I admit a lingering fascination with the subject of mirror magic." She flushed slightly, her eyes daring anyone to make a comment. "Perhaps we can discuss it later?"

"Of course," he said with a grin. He was remembering why he liked her so much. Brassy, tough as nails, and smart. "We can talk about times-" A tiny owl landed in front of him. It hooted, its wings fluttering. A thick and self-consciously official looking letter hung from one of its legs. He took it off the little creature and began to open it. He absently pushed some of his food towards the owl and he heard it begin to munch away. The letter was written in purple ink, the writing loopy but fastidious.

Dear Professor Radetzky, it read.

Minister for Magic Scrimgeour has decided to hold a gala celebrating the victory of Dyurnal Alley, and with your valiant actions there, you are invited as the guest of honour. Information about the gala has been printed on the other page in this envelope. The Ministry and Wizarding World would like to extend its thanks to you for intervening and defending the Wizarding way of life, one of freedom and acceptance.

Sincerely,

James Theron, Secretary of the Minister for Magic

Harry rolled his eyes, especially at the 'Wizarding way of life' line. The Ministry's behaviour never seemed to match its words, but then very few people could say otherwise for themselves. The other page was a crisp layout of the time and place for the ball, and dress regulations. A note to R.S.V.P was there, and he conjured a pen and piece of paper to scribble down a response. The owl looked to have eaten its own weight in food, and he tied the now much smaller load to it. It looked up at him dourly, clicked its beak once, and took off.

He leaned back, the other professors watching him out of the corners of their eyes. He poked at his breakfast a bit more, washing it down with two cups of coffee. He stood up, giving his leg one last pat before striding out of the Great Hall. A couple other professors had left, but he was watched again as he left. He was down a hall when he heard someone chasing after him. "Avery!" Hooch called. "Seems you've got a party on your hands!"

He turned back to look at her. "How the hell did you know that?" he demanded.

She loped over, grinning. She held up a small business card. "It dropped out of the letter on your way out. We were calling you to come back, but you kept going." She handed it over. "You're going to need a date, you know. Most of these fancy balls require one. Unless you want to be prime rib for all the debs?"

Harry shuddered at the thought. "How do you know I'm even going?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I have no idea. Tell me you aren't, then." Harry stared her down before sighing.

"Okay, I'm going." But not for the reason you think I am, he thought as she grinned again. He hadn't even recognized the name Scrimgeour, and the man was the bloody Minister for Magic. Catching up on politics would be a good idea if he wanted to fight Voldemort, and this also gave the opportunity to make connections.

"So you need a date," she said gleefully.

"You volunteering?" he sniped. He was still blushing, though.

"Maybe I am," she said, eyebrow arched. "You know any other women volunteering, Avery?"

He gaped. "You and me?"

"Me and you," she said warmly, a glint in her eyes. "You're not too bad to look at, and you're going to a big gala. A girl could do worse," she added amiably.

"I..." He blinked at her. "Sure. Why not?"


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed. :3

* * *

It was three hours before the students arrived, so that left Harry was puttering around his classroom, sorting out the last few things. He flicked his wand and several posters flew up from his desk, zooming around the room before spreading out over the walls. Maps and diagrams stared down from the walls, and Harry nodded after a moment's thought. "Adhaero," he said, jabbing his wand at the wall. The pieces of paper backed into the wall, affixing themselves there.

The desks sat in a semi-circle shape, with two rows. Each had three things on them- a rock, a glass of water, and a feather. They all varied in size, shape, and colour. A stasis spell covered them. He looked them over one last time, double checking that each group of objects was consistent with each other. The last thing he needed was to start someone often with a fluid rock and a staunch reflection.

They were for his seventh year class in the morning. He'd decided to skip wandless magic all together, figuring it was too late to bother teaching them. Wandless magic was a several month process all on its own, while nature magic was more friendly to learning the basics. Each object represented a branch of magic. Rock was for mineral magic, water for mirror magic, and the feather for working with the winds. This was what he was going to spend the next year or so teaching his seventh years. He wanted to challenge as many of their preconceived notions as possible before they started to run wild on the wizarding world.

He still wasn't sure how to introduce them in his own way. It was tempting to rip off Professor Jin again, but that seemed stupid. He needed his own style of teaching. What made things worse was that he wanted to be a popular teacher, someone the kids looked up to. He didn't want to a Trelawney or a Snape. That would just be embarrassing. He shook his head, tossing the thought from his mind. It was a trivial thing. All that mattered was that he had a job here in the first place. It gave him a protected base of operations and a way into the Order of the Phoenix.

After that...

And what did he do after that? It was something that had been bothering him. He had no plan for after. He knew he needed a goal, but there were a thousand different things he could be doing. He could start working with the Ministry; he could work with the press. He could ignore everything and do it on his own. He could stretch himself thin and do all of them. Which would be effective, and which would leave him treading water? That was what he couldn't answer. He sat down behind his desk, looking out over at his little kingdom. He needed a plan. He had three hours to do it. If he didn't have on by then, he was screwed. He'd never get one done.

There were benefits to all of them. He wanted to write down the pros and cons of them, but it was stupid to write down covert operations. Someone could always piece together from the ashes what you'd done. It was some sort of law. He leaned back, tapping his cane against the floor. It didn't help him think, but it gave him something to do.

Working with the Ministry meant bureaucracy, but it also meant thousands of galleons at his potential disposal, along with manpower. It also meant parties and red tape and moles everywhere. He cringed at the security breaches that he'd read about happening in the last war. By most recounts, you'd swear there'd been more moles than Ministry agents. Still, it was better than going solo, which had the only benefit of him being able to act alone. Working with the Order of the Phoenix had the benefit of more autonomy, but it was blocked by working with Dumbledore, which put him even more in jeopardy of being found out. It also left a bad taste in his mouth. After what the man had done to him, he didn't want to pretend ignorance to his ways.

Dumbledore was no villain, but he was no sterling hero either.

That left the press and doing them all. The press was a fickle beast to play with. It seemed to Harry that depending on the press was a bad idea. It made him an intensely public figure, people would start digging at his background to find, well, nothing on him, and he'd have to depend on the public to do the heavy lifting. He frowned. The public had never been reliable. They'd probably turn on him after the first week. More than that, though, how would he become a center figure for a resistance? Mostly likely through the Ministry in the first place, he concluded grimly.

It left his favourite option. He wanted to dabble in all of them, but what bothered him was how thin he'd spread himself and how much he'd need to juggle. There would be no in-depth relationship with any of the organizations- just enough to get them to work together. He'd also have to string along places like the Ministry to keep them blind to what he was doing. He'd have to juggle responsibilities between his job and his investments in the other organizations. He sat back, thinking it over. He'd always been bad at being conscientious. Even with Voldemort looming, he'd been lazy. It wasn't so much a habit as a character trait at this point in his life. He could try to change, but it'd likely end up with the same result as all his other attempts in the past years: failure.

Could he do all of them? Maybe. If it were interesting, he thought idly, and so he decided on that, because there wasn't much else to do.

He stood up, stretching. Macha was in the classroom with him, having tailed after when he'd left his rooms. She looked fascinated by the feathers, softly patting them with her paw. Harry let her; the stasis spell wasn't letting the feathers move. He walked over to the window, thinking his next action through. What was the first goal?

He could wait until the gala to make his move, try to convince Dumbledore that he was an ally, strike on his own, or give an interview with the press. Waiting for the gala meant a lot of wasted time, while convincing Dumbledore would not be simple. Dumbledore liked him, but it was whole new thing to join the Order. Harry wasn't even sure where to start and remain subtle about it. Giving an interview to the press right now would probably be a good start, but he might face hostility from the way he'd Apparated out in his first encounter with them. He'd have to go to someone who'd throw soft ball questions to start out with. Giving positive interviews in the papers would likely lead to more of Dumbledore's attention, which would lead to overtures to join the Order.

He leaned back, satisfied. So, the current plan: give an interview, get attention, join the order, go to the gala, make some connections, and get some stuff done. Excellent. He turned around to head for the Great Hall, but stopped at what he saw. Macha was chewing away at the feather, all the while purring. "Stop that!" he hissed, stumping forward and shooing her away. She gave him a dour look and he rolled his eyes as he tried futilely to save the feather. "Come with me, monster." He picked her up and put her in his bag, toting her back to his rooms.

After dumping Macha in his rooms, he met McGonagall, and he swiftly lost track of time as they talked. He was amused at her reluctant interest in mirror magic. It seemed to be something from her days as schoolgirl that had lingered, even with all the scorn she accumulated for more froofy magics. No amount of attempted convincing made her lenient on divination, though. Harry figured that everyone had their limits.

By the time he reached the Great Hall, the other teachers were already there. He ended up seated between Flitwick and Hagrid, who was leaning over to talk to Sinistra. He'd eaten with them twice already, but he was still awkward. There just wasn't much to say.

It was another 10 minutes before the first waves showed, and Harry was jittery with nerves. He leaned back in his chair, listening to the soft chatter of the other professors. When the door swung open, he snapped to attention, careful not to show anything.

In flooded students, and Harry squinted, trying to pick out people he recognized. He found some Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, but not a single Gryffindor. He got a sinking feeling as time went on and only the younger years of Gryffindor filed in. "Something's happened," he murmured, and he realized after a moment that Flitwick was nodding.

"Not a single upper-year Slytherin through that door," Flitwick remarked. "Same with Gryffindor. One hopes the fight was sorted out." Harry barely stopped himself from slumping on to the table. A vault at Gringotts on the fight being about him. Harry knew the story about his disappearance- Dumbledore claimed to have hidden him for training against Voldemort. It was a decent cover story, if nothing else.

It took another several minutes before upper-years started trickling in. There were some vicious bruises that he spied, but nothing major. Another group came through the doorway and Harry held his breath at what he saw. Hermione, Ron, and the others were all there, huddled together. He was sure he saw faint tears on Hermione's part, and he felt a surge of guilt at that. He wished he could go over and talk to them. He vowed to try and make this the best year of their lives, even though he knew it was going to be almost impossible. Not with Voldemort and reporters and some of the Slytherins around.

Everyone sat down, but Harry kept watching them out of the corner of his eye. He was aware of being pointed and stared at, but he didn't care. They looked sullen and upset, and Harry grit his teeth as Malfoy smirked at them from across the room. He turned away from them before he vowed something even stupider.

He was the talk of the Hall at the moment. People were pointing at him and chattering away, and Harry stiffened at all the attention. He wanted to be relaxed and cool about it, but this hit all his awkward buttons. He looked over all the tables, even finding himself being examined by Malfoy and his cronies. It was as his discomfort reached new heights that the door swung open once more, and in walked McGonagall. Little children followed after her, wide-eyed and stumbling. They looked like confused ducklings.

The Sorting process was long and tedious, as it always was. Harry found himself drifting off mid-Sorting, even with the loud shouts of the Sorting Hat echoing through the building. It ended with Roger Yelts being sorted Gryffindor to much applause. Dumbeldore stood up as Yelts sat down, a smile on his face and his eyes twinkling away. "Welcome," he said, "to another year at Hogwarts." There were quite a few cheers at that. "As always, the Forbidden Forest is Forbidden, and I am informed that Mr. Filch once again has a list of banned objects on his door. However, this year we have several new professors! May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Snape!" The Slytherin table exploded into cheers, but the rest of the Hall was silent. Snape didn't wave- he just gave a short nod to the Slytherin table. "Replacing Professor Snape is Professor Slughorn as Potions Master." A round man with a giant moustache stood up, waving gaily and grandly. The Hall decided it liked him, and he got a warm reception. Harry couldn't remember meeting him, but that meant nothing. Harry was terrible about interacting with other professors. He spent most of his time working on little projects and editing his course.

"Finally, I have a new course to announce- World Combat Magics, taught by Professor Radetzky." Harry was torn about what to do for a moment- Snape's reaction had been cold, while Slughorn's had just been stupid looking- before settling on giving the Hall a quick wave. His applause was louder than he expected, but then he supposed he had the cool factor going on. A quick glance at the papers had showed that he'd been made into a semi-celebrity. The world was fascinated by the idea of his magics, which Harry was awesome with. It meant he had a job.

"Let us eat, then!" A wave of a hand and an entire spread appeared from thin air. People dove into it with gusto, and Harry watched with amusement as Ron began dumping things on to his plate. He looked away when he noticed Hermione staring at him, turning to his food. He studiously ignored his friends' existence. He ate quickly and efficiently, talking with Flitwick the entire time. The second he finished, he stood and said his goodbyes. It was as he was walking out that things went wrong.

"Professor!" Hermione called out, trailing after him. "Professor, may I speak with you?" Harry turned around, adrenaline rushing through his veins.

"Of course," he said, voice stilted. She smiled at him and he almost choked.

"I was just wondering about two things," she declared. "I heard you're teaching mineral magic? Isn't that a goblin art?" She bit her lip. "Won't they be upset?"

"Many other species have stakes in rock magic," he explained. He crossed his arms in front of him. "It's not just a goblin art. Beyond that, they haven't contacted me about their outrage, so I don't really care. If goblins are offended, they'll let you know, so I'm assuming they're not."

"How are you sure?" she demanded.

"Have you talked to any goblins?" he asked. "More than at Gringotts." She shook her head sheepishly. "I have. If I was being stupid, I have faith one would ring me up and tell me. Next question?"

"I was wondering if there were any books I could read before class. The ones I found were awful," she said, nose crinkling. Harry opened his mouth to respond when he saw Ron and Ginny nearby. His brain fried as they walked over to where they were talking. It'd been seven years since he'd seen them. Seven years of insanity alone.

"The books in the Hogwarts library are terrible," he said. He took a quick steadying breath. "Come to me next class and I'll give you some books to read."

"Thank you, Professor." Harry nodded stiffly before striding off. His grip on his cane was tight.

Just as he turned the corner, he heard Ron speak. "What's up with him?"

"Jesus Christ," he spat, heading for his rooms. He kept cursing to himself. This was pathetic, but he couldn't deny it. Doing so would only make it worse. By the time he reached his rooms, he'd calmed down a bit, his mind clearing. He'd made a decision. He was leaving for the night. He needed to get out and do something other than sit with his cat and work. With some application of floo powder, he was out in less than a minute, Macha left sitting behind in front of the fire.


	8. Chapter 8

Knockturne was quiet, but hanging out there made Harry less of a sad old man with a cat, so he puttered around. He was in the lower half of the alley where it was more like a slum, but he figured he should be safe. Few people were interested in attacking cloaked wizards prowling around. You never knew who was under that hood.

The air was brisk and chill and his cheeks burned from the cold. He walked by a store with a broken window, looking into it. Shattered wood shelves toppled down from the wall while bits of glass speckled the floor. Harry wondered what had happened. It must have been bad, since most people would have hit the place with a couple Repairing Charms by now. It must have been Aurors. No one else could spook the people of Knockturne as much.

He kept moving. He spotted some people in the smaller criss-crossing alley ways, but ignored them. He had some idea of what he wanted, and it didn't involve them. He took another turn, walking into a residential area. The houses were smooshed together unpleasantly, creating thin fingers poking out from the ground. They leaned into one another, dilapidated and crumbling. A rank odour permeated the stretch houses. It was one of stale rot.

They could have been able to look after their homes, but those in Knockturne weren't graduates of Hogwarts. Many had likely dropped out after their OWLs, or had gone to a different school for monetary reasons. Hogwarts only had so many scholarships to go around before the flow of money ground to a halt, after all. It was unpleasant to think about. Hogwarts liked to pretend it wasn't elite, but it was.

Harry noticed some people watching him from their windows, their eyes wary and their faces neutral. He tried not to disturb them too much. He kept walking, his eyes directed downwards. He focused on the ground as he walked by house after house. The cobbles were dirty but unbroken, he noted.

It was as he passed the last of the houses that he gained a feeling of unease. It felt like he was being watched. He put it down to the environment-it was dark and kind of spooky with all the run down houses- and walked along. He was still nervous, though. He hummed to himself, trying to fill the quiet, but that just felt awkward. He drifted off into silence as he entered an area of battered warehouses.

It felt like he was watching a horror film. Something was creeping around in the dark, and eventually it would jump him, but he couldn't tell the what or when. He shook his head. He'd never been good at divination, so it made no sense to assume prophecy. He couldn't stop being twitchy, however. He was waiting for something to jump out of nowhere.

It was probably going to be a cat, if he knew his movies well enough.

He gave up on the area, ducking into an alley way. It should be a shortcut back to Diagon Alley, where there still might be some people cruising the town. If he couldn't slum it properly, he may as well go spend some comfort money. Macha could do with some new toys. He winced at that thought. So much for not being a sad old man with a cat.

There was a change in the air, and something was **wrong**. Left or right, he thought, and he dove left. A streak of sickly green bolted from behind him, hitting the building across from the alley way. It splashed there, dispersing into nothing. He ripped his wand out of his holster, whirling around to face the person who'd fired. There was no one there.

"Fuck," he said emphatically, digging into his pockets. He moved backwards awkwardly, his limp dragging him down and he put his back to the wall. He kept an eye out as he pulled out paper. It had a sketch of a wing doodled on it. "_Cleite chosanta guairne__á__n_." The piece of paper exploded into a mass of feathers. "_G__náthghaoth_." A wind sprung from nowhere, sweeping the feathers into a tornado of white. Harry could barely see anything. Green hit the shield again and clipped the feathers; Harry heard someone swear, and he lashed out. "_Flamma ascia_!"

A slashing wave of fire cut out from his feather shield, and the entire alley was lit up as it sailed towards his target. The feathers swiftly filled in the gap. Harry heard a scream and he cringed, dropping the barrier. On the ground lay a young woman, her skin and hair charred. She was weeping in pain, and Harry looked at her, dumbstruck.

"Heather? What the hell are you doing...?" He went ashen as his thoughts caught up to the situation, and he dropped to the floor. A blast of lightning sailed over him, and he grit his teeth, hoping not a bit hit him. He rolled over, and with a swish of his wand, barked out, "Ceo!" A haze took over the alley, and Harry rolled upwards. He planted himself beside Heather, his wand at the ready. He made sure to make as little noise as possible.

"Avery," Heather gasped. "Fuck you. Shit. Why couldn't you stand still and die for once in your life?" She let out a tortured moan, and he ignored her. The pain in his leg was roaring at him. Dropping to the ground had left it at a strange angle, and while his leg was getting better, it wasn't perfect.

"_Sopor_," he whispered, and she fell asleep. He stood and began to limp away, heading for a way out. Knowing these two, there were anti-apparition wards up, and trying to find out would give him away.

"I can hear you, Radetzky," purred Anthony. "Vampire, remember?"

"_Mugio_," he snapped, frustrated.

"Oh fuck no," Anthony moaned, and a dull roar took over the area. Harry burst into a sprint, blindly heading for the exit he'd picked out. He ignored his leg, desperate enough not to think about the damage he was doing to it.

"Reducto, reducto," he chanted, his red beams sailing along the length of the alley. Hopefully anything Anthony put there at the entrance would be breakable. If not, he was screwed. He kept a mental note of where he was, and when he flew through the entrance, he almost cheered. He swung left, heading for Diagon. It was predictable, but it was the best place to be. The two couldn't pull off assassination in the public- that would likely earn backlash from their employers.

Just as everything was going well, he tripped. Not a normal trip, no- the kind of trip that meant a spell was involved. He scrabbled on the ground for a moment before crawling to his feet, but it was too late. The Roaring spell was finished, and Anthony was on top of him. Harry snarled, kicking out with his good leg, but he'd never won against Anthony at hand to hand. The man was a vampire, and that was an insta-win button for the fight. His cane lay several feet away.

Anthony held up the wand and he opened his mouth to say the words so Harry kicked him in the balls. "Urgh," Anthony said, his hands going down to cup his dick. He toppled over and Harry shot to his feet, getting back to the job of fleeing. He tore along the street, mind frantic. He knew he was slowing down- this was too much for his leg, and he didn't have his cane anymore. It was one big fireball of pain. "_Iucunditas_," he spat, and the pain dulled. He heard Anthony snarl and get to his feet and Harry panicked. He tried to Apparate. Agony coursed through him as the wards shoved him back to together, and Harry couldn't help but scream. He fell to the ground, dazed, but he knew he couldn't stay there. Anthony would tear him to shreds. He crawled to his feet, his arms shaking. He moaned in pain.

A foot to his stomach made him fall back down.

"That," Anthony hissed, "was unnecessary." He was still limping slightly, and Harry bit back a derisive laugh. "I never liked you, Avery, but now I'm going to make this painful." He reached down and grabbed Harry by a fistful of hair. Anthony jerked upwards, and Harry yelped, following the movement. He got to his knees, swaying, and Anthony stood there, smirking.

"Fuck off," Harry snapped. He tried to push himself to his feet, but his leg gave out on him, and Anthony laughed. It infuriated Harry. "_Quasso_." The ground began to shake, and Harry saw black as his leg roared at him as he lunged forward and pushed Anthony. Mixed with the localized earthquake, the man tumbled to the ground. Harry staggered to his feet and began hobbling. Anthony was terrible at magic, and that's where Harry's advantage lay. Vampires tended to be mediocre with wands, and Anthony was no exception. The man's only advantage was his vampirism, and while that was a problem, it wasn't insurmountable.

He kept low to the ground. He almost fell several times, but he got out of the earthquake area quickly. There wasn't much he could do about his leg. He bit his lip, wondering when to Apparate. It wasn't a simple decision. Apparating again would probably mean another encounter with Anthony, and he couldn't afford that. Anthony would likely just rip his throat out instead of giving him a second to cast.

It was an irrelevant decision as he hit the intersection between Dyurnal and Knockturne. He ran up into Dyurnal, giving up on Diagon. At some point he'd gotten lost, since as far as he knew, this should be Diagon. Either way, he Apparated, and he couldn't help but cheer as his surroundings vanished. He landed in Hogsmeade, and Apparated again. As bad as Anthony was with his wand, he could still track Apparation trails, and Harry wasn't going to do this again. He kept Apparating, running for a bit, then Apparating. He hit seven different places before landing in a different section of Hogsmeade, then he headed for the Three Broomsticks.

It was a long jog, but he was too paranoid to walk. Anthony should still be stuck on the third Apparation, judging by the times Harry remembered, but you never knew. He reached the building out of breath and gasping, and he staggered through it, into the warmth. He ignored the people around him, aware they were staring. He didn't want to think about what he looked like. He staggered to the fireplace and slurred out, "Hogwarts." He fell into the fireplace and was almost ill at the swirling images. He toppled out of the fireplace on the other end. It was then he realized that he was somewhere Hogwarts, not in his rooms. He swore at his stupidity and checked his robes for floo powder. Not an ounce was on him- he'd managed to use it up by constantly flooing everywhere.

He gave up and walked into Hogwarts, straightening out his clothing. He relaxed, trying to project an air of a teacher on patrol, and began to head for his rooms. The halls were empty, and Harry was glad. The last thing he wanted to deal with was students. He was too wired, tired, and in pain to deal with them fairly.

His mind kept turning over the latest revelation. Heather and Anthony were after him. The pair had been at Vaelle's in his younger years, and both were top-paid assassins. He'd known them mostly because they'd run with a certain crowd that liked to cow younger students, and Harry had been one of them. It'd been unpleasant, but both had gotten comeuppance. It'd been fairly poetic. The entire affair had ended with them graduating, and life had moved on.

Seemingly, not for them. They were after him now, and Harry had no idea why. He couldn't think of anyone he'd pissed off on the Otherside recently that would take out those two as assassins. It was strange. But then his entire situation was strange. What Harry didn't know could fill the Atlantic Ocean. He still didn't know what had sent him back in time either, which bugged him every day.

The time travel had happened a month after getting home from Hogwarts. That night he'd fallen asleep in his bedroom, then next he'd woken up to find it filled with toys again, all of them broken and battered. His wand was gone, Hedwig was missing, and everything was like it'd been seven years ago. He'd panicked initially, especially after what the previous month had been like. But after that panic, his survival instincts kicked in, and he'd slipped out the window, into the garden. He'd slunk out of Number 4 Privet Drive with the knowledge that he couldn't go to Dumbledore about this. Not after the previous month. He would have been lost completely if he hadn't met Professor Green in Diagon. He still held Green in a place of awe, he admitted to himself. Few other people knew that, but it was true.

After that, he'd repeated seven years of his life, stuck in a loop.

He'd never figured out why it'd happened. He'd developed suspicions as time went on, but none of them ever bore out. He frowned to himself. He might never have an answer for it, if he was honest. The thought depressed him. It'd been a shitty day, and he couldn't wait to get to bed. H e felt only mildly safe in Hogwarts, so he still had ward-work to do for his rooms. Then it was classes.

He groaned softly to himself, but kept limping. He prayed the stairs would be cooperative.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Only a small update this time, since university's put a bit of a time crunch on me. I also did a bit of an edit to the last chapter, since I messed up on continuity. Harry's leg still sucks, though I wrote it like it was better. Anyways, thank you for the reviews and happy reading. :3

* * *

_Harry was sitting in his chair, writing. Symbols which he couldn't decipher spread across the parchment, and Harry felt numb as it began to take shape. It was a long spiraling circle and Harry couldn't help but find it pretty. The mind beside his was busy working, so Harry kept to himself, content to watch. He could tell the mind didn't know he was there, and he was fine with that. _

_The small symbols varied greatly in what they were. Some were smooth and loopy; others were sharp and jagged. They mixed together to create something difficult to look at, as though it didn't belong. It confused Harry, but he kept it to himself. It was several minutes later that his mind faded out._

When Harry woke up, he wished he hadn't. His entire body ached, and his head was throbbing from the dream. He forced himself to roll out of bed, leaning heavily on his good leg. His cane was still in Knockturne somewhere, so he conjured up a replacement. It wasn't perfect- it wasn't as sturdy as his other one, and the grip felt strange, but he was too tired to conjure another. He limped to the bathroom, Macha following after him.

She pawed at his cane while he brushed his teeth, and he tried to relax his muscles in the hopes his entire day wouldn't be miserable. He finished his business in the bathroom with his body still sore, so he gave up and murmured, "Iucunditas." Pleasure filled his body, and he relaxed.

He'd had another dream, and he couldn't explain why. He closed his eyes as he dressed, sinking into a deeper state and seeing his shields. They weren't as bad as they'd been last time, but they were still messy and broken. He frowned to himself, but swiftly repaired them. It took him only moments to put them back to their original state. After he did that, he buttoned up his shirt and picked up his bag. He'd woken up late, so he decided to skip breakfast. He wasn't really hungry anyway.

The dream had been fairly average, and Voldemort hadn't noticed him, but it was dangerous. That's all he could think. If it happened again, he was liable to be caught, and as last time had evidenced, that ended poorly for him. He walked down to his classroom, left with his thoughts. Whatever was going on with his shields was subtle. Once again there'd been no signs of what had done it. Shields were easy to fix, he admitted, so he wasn't bothered by that, but the dreams were getting to him. They hurt and they left him fully vulnerable to Voldemort.

His leg was worse today. The fight yesterday seemed to have removed a lot of his progress, he noted glumly. He couldn't help but wonder if he'd done any permanent damage to it. He hoped not, but he couldn't be sure. He'd have to talk to Madam Pomfrey. He might even have to go back to St. Mungo's.

The stairs were difficult today, an utter misery to navigate. He staggered down the last bit, aware the portraits were calling out bits of encouragement. When he hit the bottom, he leaned against the wall, panting. His leg was already throbbing again. "Are you sure you're alright?" asked a young lady in a giant ball gown. He gave a ragged nod and thanked her before moving on. He didn't want to talk about anything today.

He reached his classroom when the seventh years got there. They were staring at him, and he knew he looked quite the mess. He grit his teeth and opened the door, aware he didn't have the patience to make any sort of suave or clever speech. He limped to the front and tossed his bag down. He fell into the chair, his breathing heavy. He watched as the students, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, wandered around the room, examining the desks' contents. He saw one or two just sit down, not looking at what was on the desk, and he decided to act. "Careful where you sit," he said. "Choose the objects you feel most drawn to." The group of people who'd been fawning over the raven's feather seemed to sigh and disperse, and he was grateful for that. He didn't want to talk them through the realization that cool wasn't necessarily the best factor to look for.

It took another five minutes of people wandering before everyone sat down. There were some empty desks, and some people were clustered around the same objects, so he sorted that out. He looked over the classroom, noticing many people were playing with their objects. Others just sat there confused. "So," he said, "everyone satisfied with what they got?" There were scattered nods. Harry smiled. "I'm Professor Radetzky, and I'm here to teach you three magics you've probably never heard of before: rock magic, wind magic, and mirror magic. As you already know, there are no textbooks for this class. There aren't any essays either." There were some cheers at that, and Harry grinned. Several Ravenclaws looked horrified. "Mostly this is because of the lack of quality books in the Hogwarts library on the topic. Instead, you're going to have lots of practicals throughout the year." The cheers swiftly turned to groans, which Harry ignored. "I'm going to pass around a sheet of paper, and I want you to write your name where you're sitting." The paper was a sketch of the classroom, with little squares making it up. Harry watched the first person sign before turning his attention back to the class. "We're going to start off with rock magic, so I want you to put the other things in a corner on your desk."

As they did that, Harry pushed himself on to the desk. His leg complained at being forced into this new position, but he rubbed it, soothing away the pain slightly. "The first thing you should know is that this is magic you're going to struggle with at the start, get for a slight time, then struggle with again. However, it's easier than wandless magic. The purpose of rock magic is to create tools and familiars. Most of the time, you'll be working with materials that aren't compatible with your personality. However, at the start, you will be."

A hand shot up from the back. "Compatible?" one Ravenclaw asked. "Is that possible?"

"Yup," he said. "Your personality is what drew you to whatever desk you chose. The rock you have there is the best type for you to work with. I'll go around and describe to you guys which type you got later. Now, we're going to spend two months studying rock magic, then we're going to make a tool out of what we know. This will be worth about 25% of your mark." An idea was going through his mind, and he already liked it. There would be lots of things to demonstrate, and lots of free time to watch over the kids. What would he do with that time, but make something of his own? He mulled it over quickly. He'd always wanted to try to make a familiar. "First things first, I want you to pick up your rock..."

* * *

His classes had been going well so far, and he couldn't help but grin as he went to last class of the day. It was going to be with Ron, Hermione, Neville and the others, with the Slytherins added in, but that was okay. Balls to the wall, he was going to get this done. He was there early, so he stepped into his classroom expecting no one there. What he didn't expect to see was Draco and his Slytherins holding Hermione and others at wand point.

"What," he said, "the hell. Wands down. Now." He walked in further, observing. "Explain. Herm-Granger, go."

"We came in early to see what the class was like, and Malfoy decided it was time to talk about Voldemort," she spat. She looked upset and angry and Harry bit his lip.

"You're terrible at lying as usual, Granger," Malfoy sneered. "We came in early and they decided to 'put us in our place'. I'm tired of being accused of being a Death Eater." And if Harry had any sympathy Malfoy, he would have been lenient and understanding of him, since Malfoy was a beautiful liar. "You understand, don't you, Professor?"

"And what would you say if I told you there was spell to see who's telling the truth?" Harry said calmly. Malfoy went ashen at that. "Anyone willing to try?"

"I will," Hermione said, stepping forward.

"That's against the rules!" Malfoy squawked.

"It's not," he said. "Veritaserum? Against the law. This? Not against the law. Completely voluntary. So, you ready, Malfoy? Or should I let Miss Granger try?"

Malfoy flushed red, scowling. "I have nothing to say," he said coldly.

"Okay," he said. "I want to see you after class, Mr. Malfoy. You too, Miss Granger. We'll sort this out later." People started filing in after him, and he headed for his desk. "Sit down," he called back. "After all, class is about to start."


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Big thanks to the reviewers so far, and to everyone who's fav'd or alerted. (:

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Harry sat down on his desk, looking over the students. "I'm Professor Radetzky," he said, "and I'm here to teach you wandless magic and your animagus form." There was an explosion of murmurs at that, and he held up a hand to quiet them down. "I don't really care about your names right now, but I promise I'll learn them over the semester. Now, the first thing you need to know is that I don't really care about your problems with each other. I just ask that you don't screw each other over. I know the rest of the professors like to pretend everything's fine, but I won't. I also won't tolerate any stupidity in this class. So, make of that what you will."

He watched Hermione lean forward eagerly. "As you've undoubtedly noticed, there's no textbook. We'll deal with that later. For now, we're going to do a practical demonstration." He brought up a hand and did a swishy wave. The windows turned deep black, stars peering in through the windows. The moon sat in the sky, a half-circle. "You can theoretically do anything you can do with a wand, but that's only after great practice. Most people will never reach that point in their lives- in fact, without specific training, most will learn maybe one or two spells wandlessly in their lives. By the end of of January, you'll know enough to do basic spells and some intermediate. Will you be able to do what I did? Likely not. But at some point, this will be a lifesaver."

He leaned back, his hands holding the edge of the desk. One or two students looked awed; the rest looked mildly interested. "So, how do we access this magic? Anyone have any idea?" Finnegan's hand went up. "Mr. Finnegan. Go for it."

"M um said it had something to do with the core of your magic," he offered, and Harry labelled him an interested student. He wasn't sure it was right, but he was engaged enough to try. One or two Slytherins snickered, and Harry didn't bother to suppress his eye rolling.

"Considering Mr. Finnegan's righter than anyone else so far, I'd keep the snickering to yourselves. Your mum's right. It has to do with developing a closer attachment to your magical core. Using a wand keeps a certain distance which allows your magic to be more controllable, but has obvious drawbacks." He watched Neville frantically scribble down his every word, and he smiled. "The process for developing that closeness is similar to what you'll be doing for your animagus forms, so that's why you're getting both this year."

"So, how do you guys think a person would go about creating such a relationship?" Several hands went up, including Hermione and Parkinson. He restrained the impulse to choose Hermione, and went for someone more neutral. "Nott."

"Meditation," he said quietly. He was slouched in his seat, his arms crossed over his middle. Harry nodded, giving him a quick smile. It earned little reaction.

"That's right, one of the ways to do it is meditation. Trances are used to create pathways to let magic travel through, and to smooth over any snags you may have. At the start, you'll have to always be in a trance to see your magic, but after a while of it, you'll find that merely closing your eyes will ease you into your core. Any other answers? Miss Granger?"

"Familiars," she said, bright-eyed. "Familiars are supposed to be able to channel your magics much more easily."

"Correct! Familiar making is something you'll learn to do in your seventh year, or if you'd like to start early, you can come see me. I'm thinking of starting several clubs, I just need to know if there's any interest." Well, he hadn't been before, but now he was. He frowned at his mouth, aware it was getting away from him, making little plans. "Anyways. Any questions so far?"

Malfoy raised a hand and Harry gave him a nod. "Is it possible for people to see your core?" He sounded suspicious, and Harry barely bit back a laugh.

"Your core is deeply personal, Mr. Malfoy, so I understand your concern. It is possible to see someone's core if they allow you in, and you have enough experience to take advantage of that offer. Forcing your way in is also a possibility, but it's much more rare. You'd need someone who was a master of wandless magic and mind magics. I daresay that you won't come across many of those people anytime soon. Before anyone asks, I wouldn't be able to do it without a ritual powering me, and that's more effort than I'm willing to spend to just look at someone's magic."

"What exactly is someone's core?" Thomas asked. He paused when he remembered he hadn't put up his hand and looked sheepish.

Harry laughed. "It's made up of all your life experiences, your genetics, your personality, and your magic and other magics that have been used to influence you. It's really quite complex."

"Jentics?" Ron asked, confused. Harry got blank stares from the purebloods in the classroom, while those with muggle heritage grinned conspiratorially. Harry flushed, but he was simultaneously pleased. Muggleborns and half-bloods had labelled him one of theirs, and he was glad for it.

"Genetics," he repeated. "It's a scientific term for makes you, you, in terms of your biology- I mean, body. Muggle thing. Sorry about that." There were still more than a few blank stares, and Hermione looked interested in lecturing the class about genetics, so he swiftly moved on. "The first thing I'm going to teach you is what your focus is going to be. It's good to have something to focus on when meditating." He twitched a finger, and a rock flew out of his bag. He plunked it down on his desk and gestured grandly to it. "This is what I used when I was learning. It's not so much the appearance that matters as the texture and shape. Your job for this class is to create something for you to use. You have until next class to finish this project up. Any questions?"

"Is there anything we should avoid in our design?" Zabini asked. He looked mildly interested in the entire class, and Harry took that as a victory.

"Not really. So long as you can focus well enough on your object and it can hold your attention for a long time, you've done everything right. If you have something you already have like that, you're free to leave." Harry shrugged. "Now, let's start." Several people began sketching on their parchment, while others leaned over to their neighbours, talking. A handful left the classroom, bags at their sides. Harry sat on the desk for another minute before slipping off. He surveyed the classroom, hoping to spot someone struggling, but it wasn't an obvious thing to see.

He gave up after another moment and sat behind his desk. He'd go out after a bit to see how everyone was doing. There was no point in cruising the classroom yet- people were just getting started. He reached into his bag and pulled out a piece of parchment. He conjured a pen and started sketching. He needed to figure out several things. He scribbled out several clubs he was going to start: a familiar club, wandless magic, languages, and a club for survival tactics. He tapped his pen on the desk, thinking it through. Familiars for the younger years with interest and to help seventh years who were struggling, wandless magic for anyone who wanted to pick up the art and seventh years who wanted to learn it, languages to help them pick up the pronunciation for new spells, and survival tactics to make them survive the war. He nodded, satisfied. It was good enough for him.

N ow he needed to figure out what he wanted his familiar to be. It wasn't a straightforward thing- he knew a lot of people chose their animagus form as their familiar, but it struck Harry as letting an advantage go. He didn't want everyone to know what he could turn into. Still, the creature had to be one he had a connection to. The problem was he couldn't think of one that he would particularly care to look at day after day. Sighing, he stood up and started to survey the class. Neville was struggling, and Malfoy was sulking. Awesome.

He went up and down the aisles, occasionally stopping beside a student. He helped one realize that they were focusing too much on details like what colour their feather was, ignoring the tiny things like the poor texturing on the shaft. Neville was struggling with figuring out what he wanted, at least until Harry pointed out he could use a plant. Next thing Harry knew, the boy was overflowing with ideas, many of them quite interesting. By the time he met Malfoy, he was relaxed and pleased with himself.

"Mr. Malfoy, is there anything you need help with?" Malfoy eyeballed him resentfully. Harry stood his ground, remaining calm. He smiled.

"I can't seem to transfigure my medallion properly." Malfoy's mouth was pinched, and he was scowling. "The lines won't come out right." Asking for help looked to be too much for him to take, and Harry decided to make this as painless as possible for both of them.

"You have a sketch?" he asked, and Malfoy handed over a sheet of parchment. Harry examined it carefully. A spiralling circle mixed with dots was there, but when he looked at the medallion, the lines were close, but didn't seem to match up quite right. It was a small difference, but he could understand now why it was annoying Malfoy so much. "Try again."

"_Macornis_," Malfoy said stiffly. The medallion morphed, the lines and depressions shifting in the black metal. Again, they didn't look quite right. Harry squinted at it, thinking it over.

"Try _imitas_," Harry suggested. He handed the piece of parchment back. "Hold that. Wand movement's are two flicks to the right." Malfoy looked dubious, but he did it anyway. The medallion shivered before the lines snaked around the disk, settling in. Harry looked it over with a critical eye. "Seems to fit."

Malfoy nodded, his eyes guarded. "Thank you, Professor." Harry gave him a smile and kept walking. The class ended quickly, and Harry was packing up when Hermione and Malfoy stopped in front of his desk. Hermione looked mulish while Malfoy had reverted to sulking. "So, we ready for the spell?"

"I still say it's against the rules, and I'll talk to the Headmaster if you do it," Malfoy snapped.

Hermione ignored him. "I'm ready, Professor."

"Excellent. Hold this mirror," he said, handing over a normal-looking silver mirror, "and tell me what happened." He sat back to watch. Malfoy had gone absolutely still.

"We went in early," she started. "The door was open for some reason, so we figured it was okay. When we were sitting down, Malfoy showed up." Her contempt was clear. "He started talking about how Harry was a coward, and that Voldemort would kill us, and when Ron started yelling at him, he pulled out his wand. Then you came in Professor." She looked at him resolutely. "We did nothing wrong." Harry nodded, taking the mirror back and examining it carefully.

"I see," he said. "Mr. Malfoy, would you like to try?"

" ...No," the teen said. "I'll take my detention now." Malfoy looked enraged, and Harry was biting the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing. "I swear I'll take this to Dumbledore, Professor."

"You do that," he said cheerfully. "Report to Mr. Filch for the next three weeks, every night. Threatening students is not condoned in this school, Mr. Malfoy. Good day." He watched as Malfoy stomped out of the room, and turned back to see Hermione smiling.

"H ow did you do that?" she asked. Harry had butterflies in his stomach, but he ignored them.

"I did nothing," he said with a shrug.

S he blinked. "You used magic to find out if I was telling the truth! How did you do that?"

"I didn't use any magic," he said. "It was all you. There are spells to divine who's telling the truth, but that would take forever to prep. I just let you testify and watched Mr. Malfoy turn tail and run. He pretty much admitted he did it." H ermione opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Ron snorted in laughter. There were titters from the other Gryffindors around them. "Now, is there anything else you want?"

"Er," Ron said. "We were wondering about those clubs you mentioned?"

"Oh," he said. "Which ones are you interested in?"

"All of them," Neville said. There were nods through the group, and Harry spotted even some Slytherins hanging near the back.

"Well," he said, taking hold of the parchment he'd been scribbling on earlier and flipping it over. "Sign here."


End file.
